


The Chair

by will_wire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 14:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13549674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/will_wire/pseuds/will_wire
Summary: Dean Winchester finds himself in a precarious position, yet again. He knows what's in store for him, and struggles to keep his nerve in the face of it.





	The Chair

   The light shined brightly in Dean Winchester’s eyes, and no matter how hard he squinted, he could not make out the room around him. The chair he sat upon was reclined slightly, not so much that he was flat on his back, but enough to make him feel off-kilter and exposed. This wasn’t nearly the most serious situation he’d ever been in. It didn’t even rank in the top ten thousand. It certainly wasn’t the first time he walked into a situation knowing it ended at the point of the blade. He knew, deep down, it wouldn’t be the last, either. The horrors he’d seen in his life - in all of his lives - would send most running, but not him. However, his cool demeanor was easily betrayed by his nails digging into the arms of the chair. Even a punk-ass crossroads demon at orientation could have seen it.  
   A door opened and closed. Behind him, footsteps slowly approached the chair. “Well, well, well,” a voice growled, past the bounds of what he could see with the light in his face. “Dean Winchester, on my chair. Again. You can imagine my surprise when I was informed you would be joining us today.”  
   “I’m full of surprises,” Dean rasped. He winced slightly in pain.  
   The man chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure you are, but I’m somewhat of an expert in dealing with… rare individuals, not unlike yourself.” The man continued walking around behind Dean. He could hear the clatter of metal instruments, the snap of latex gloves. Had he been able to see it, it would have been unsettling enough. With the light blinding him, it was a battle to stay calm.  
   “You might think you know, but you have no idea, pal.” Dean laughed hoarsely, which tapered off into a pained coughing fit. The man put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, and he jumped slightly in the chair.  
   “Easy, Dean. Don’t strain yourself. We wouldn’t want to cause you any undue pain, now would we? No, I think not. There's going to be quite a bit of pain to come, if I'm not mistaken.” The man sat down next to him. “My, my, my. We’ve seen better days, haven’t we? Open your mouth.” The man put his hand on Dean’s chin, slightly pressing down. Dean hesitated. “Come, now, Dean. This is standard procedure. The quicker I get what I want, the quicker you go on your way. I promise.”  
   Dean knew something about promises. He’d made a few in his time. He’d broken a few in his time. Still, he complied, and opened his mouth slightly.  
   The man tutted. “More than that, Dean. You know the drill.” Dean opened wider, and the light moved slightly. Dean grimaced in pain, and there was a victorious chuckle from the man. “Oh, Dean. I was right about you. There they are. Again.” The man poked an instrument of some kind into Dean’s mouth, nearly all the way to the back of his throat, causing Dean to jump again slightly. “Easy, now, kid. This is, what, the fifth time we’ve had to do this?” He removed the instrument from Dean’s mouth and set it on a metal table next to the chair.  
   The man moved the light out of Dean’s eyes, and the rest of the examination room slowly became visible again, like a developing photograph. “This makes six,” Dean said, rubbing his eyes and holding back another coughing fit.  
   “I’ll tell you, I’ve seen some serious things in my time, Dean. I’ve seen a man with three rows of teeth. I’ve seen a woman with a jaw that unhinged like a boa constrictor. I’ve never seen anything like this, though. Tonsils that have been removed growing back? Once is unheard of, but growing back five times? Man, healing up like that is something else. You must have the Patron Saint of Useless Body Parts watching over you, son.”  
   Dean rolled his eyes. “An angel, more like it.”  
   The doctor chuckled, unaware of Dean's earnestness, and scribbled something down on his pad. “You were comfortable with Dr. Baker, right? The surgeon you had last time?” Dean nodded. Baker had taken excellent care of Dean, and he knew he was in good hands. "Well, same deal as last time, no solid food, it's just gonna hurt." The doctor handed him the note from his pad. "Hopefully, this is the last time."  
   "I doubt it." Dean replied grimly as he stood up and put his jacket on. He waved at the doctor and started down the hall. Dean handed the note to the receptionist, who scheduled his appointment. There was an opening available tomorrow, as it so happened. The receptionist wrote down the time and date on a business card. Dean took it, nodded and smiled in appreciation, and walked out the door silently. Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, put his head down and swiftly strode down the halls of the hospital. He wasn’t a fan of hospitals. Some of the worst moments of his life had all happened in hospitals across the country. The figurative ghosts lingered in each one, regardless of where he was. A few real ones, too.  
   He exited the automatic doors in the lobby, picked his head up and made a b-line towards his baby. Sam was sitting in the front passenger’s side seat of the Impala, reading a worn copy of the Voynich Manuscript, while Castiel sat in the back seat, looking at the text over Sam’s shoulder.  
   “You have to be kidding me, Cas.” Sam said incredulously.  
   “No human has ever been able to decipher it, but I assure you, Sam,” Castiel said in his soft, almost monotonous voice. “as far as collections of limericks, knock-knock jokes and humorous anecdotes go, this is one of the earliest and still one of the best.” Both Cas and Sam stopped speaking as Dean got into the driver’s seat. He was intentionally avoiding looking at Castiel.  
   “Well?” Sam asked. “Tonsilitis again?” Dean nodded. “Who’s taking them out?”  
   “Baker,” Dean said low, turning the key. The Impala roared to life.  
   “Oh, that’s good. Dr. Baker always takes excellent care of you.” Sam went back into the book, desperately trying to decipher what was actually the first known joke where a priest, a rabbi and a imam walk into a bar.  
   “Dean,” Cas spoke up, awkwardly, “I just want to apologize for this happening. Again.”  
   Dean sighed, looking Cas in the eye in the rearview mirror for the first time since he got back in the car. He’d been kind of annoyed with the angel since he’d gotten sick, and in that moment, he started to feel guilty about it. Castiel didn’t deserve Dean’s attitude. Castiel’s angelic powers had mended the boys time and time again, from the occasional life threatening injury to the frequently slashed palm. Whenever he could, or at least whenever he wasn’t depowered or going rogue, he did everything in his power to help, sometimes even things beyond his power. An unfortunate side effect was that, occasionally, when a wound was severe enough, the angelic healing powers were somewhat indiscriminate about the degree to which they healed the human body. Sometimes, this came in the form of every scar the boys had on their arms disappearing. This time, it was in the form of Dean’s tonsils growing back for the fifth time. While it would have been simple enough for Cas to have simply healed Dean’s tonsillitis, it was worth being cautious and having some maladies taken care of the old fashioned way, in case the angel wasn’t around the next time. This became policy after the second time Sam’s appendix burst, during a period where Castiel’s grace was taken from him, rendering him powerless.  
   Dean smirked. “Just the price of doing business, Cas.”  
   Sam smiled as he kept trying to translate the book.  
   Cas looked at Sam, and then back to Dean. “But, Dean, I don’t own a business and you don’t have any money.”  
   “Oookay,” Dean said in a pained whisper. His annoyance renewed, he put the car in gear and peeled out of the parking lot.


End file.
